


Green Apples

by Klebkatt



Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: AU/AR, Anal, Angst, Beast - Freeform, M/M, Minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-30
Updated: 2006-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klebkatt/pseuds/Klebkatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just want something a little unripened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Apples

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work from 10 years ago. Please keep this in mind.

I find myself thinking of the oddest things, but, surprisingly, I am not disgusted by it.

I still yearn for Allura, my thirst will never be quenched until she lies violated in my bed. But it’s you that I desire to share it after…or before, yes, before would be best. I would hunt you like a beast, catch you and strip you and make love to you as I rip you open. Would you enjoy that?

You’re such a pretty boy, intelligent too. I’d image that you’d like to play hide and seek, too old to accept a child’s game but still too young to deny that it makes you happy. Of course, our game would be different. For once, I’d be the lion, licking my lips in hunger as you became frightened, and your glasses gone to reveal your glowing, girlish face.

I would start eating you with your face, licking your cheeks as tears streamed down. Then I’d move to your neck, my rough tongue enticing a gasp before I insured that you wouldn’t be moving from this corner again with my teeth.

Your blood would still be pure, wouldn’t it? You are green, after all, soft and sour and not yet ripened to that red, crisp sweetness. But I couldn’t imagine you as sour, not as you blushed heavily and gave moaning pants to each of my dominating thrusts.

You’re just a child in my head, and I remember how underdeveloped I was before my body realized indeed that it was male, growing into a man that would need to be proud and strong and I apply the shapeless figure to you.

My growls grow in their ferocity. I should be ashamed that the boyish figure turns me on, but the more I think about your shapeless body taunt and arching, the more I slouch into my own hands, trying to recreate the supposed feel of your warm body around me.

Logically, you should be dead after a bite to the throat, but the fantasy is bizarre anyway and if you have miraculously healed, then I have you saved for the next time I want you. But you’re stubborn, aren’t you, little one? You won’t come willingly for me. I am the blue devil, the demon that has killed your world and made you an orphan. I’m the monster that’s raping you.

My mad giggle at the thought proves that there’s something wrong with me, but I forget to think about it as my hips shiver, my vocal cords silent with my increasing pleasure save the kneading noise my throat makes.

You’re precious, do you know that? Adorable like some cartoon character with large green, liquid eyes, blushing profusely with one of your fists to your mouth to stifle your own white pleasure.

With one paw wrapped around your hip and the other cradling your back, I can’t but help licking my sandpaper tongue across your chest, baby nipples sweet with sweat. You’re eyes slide shut, a sudden, quiet gasp is my reward as you arch, wild brown hair drenched and sticking to your wet body. I can’t resist that mouth of yours, open and panting, and my own lips secure it shut.

What would you say to the others finding us like this? I’m sure I would disgust them now, if they could know what I was dreaming of on these late nights. The big, lumbering one who flies the yellow lion, he’d be the angriest. Do you like him, my green, little lion? Has he already ruined you for me, little lion? The idea disgusts me, and I quickly switch the thoughts around. He would be heartbroken, if the olf was smart enough to realize it, to find that I have had you on my lap, clinging to my sheets.

He’s in the fantasy as background noise, the need for him to question why and break with the knowledge of you and I driving my heat and senses. I can’t help but wrap around you tighter, my claws ripping into your back and leaving a bloody mess as I pull them through you.

Your head rolls back, no gasp coming from your throat. I know my smile is opened-mouthed, your scream the turning point in this game. I grip your neck again in my teeth, bucking hard into your sacred body, willing you to take my white offering as a token of my affection, but I pulse and the dream ends. I think of you a moment more, satisfied that I have drained your innocence away, but illusions aren’t meant to last and I’m staring at my wine glass again.

One of my women come and kneels before me, gingerly picking up my hand and licks the seamen from my palm and thumb. It escapes me why for a moment that she’s doing this, but then I remember that I came to my harem to forget you and Allura tonight.

She stands once she’s finished cleaning me and picks a cutting knife up from the stand next to me. Of all things she chooses to cut and peel for me from the fruit basket is a green apple, and in my mind, I smile at another fantasy of you being caught in one of my traps, all alone.

My image circles you, and my real mouth opens to collect the sour offering pressed to my lips. “Hm,” I purr to you in the alternate world, one arm wrapped around my chest in thought, the other bent so that my hand covered the thoughtful smirk, “Hello, Pidge.”


End file.
